Forbidden Fruit
by Fyretress
Summary: Dean Winchester is a legend here. He is the nightmare of nightmares, the worst imaginable thing that could happen to something like me. His humanity, they say, is like a magnet. I think it is more like a siren song. Creatures of darkness are fascinated and creep closer than they should, only to be dashed against his rocks.


_So I saw a post on tumblr the other day speculating about how many monsters fell in love with Dean while he was in Purgatory. And actually, that is a really good point. In fact, if I had to patience to stick with a story, I would probably write an actual fanfiction instead of this little blurb. Purgatory from the POV of a monster- that kind of fascinates me. Send me the link if you write one, I would love to read it!_

_And now I'm babbling. Anyway. *clears throat* Here we go. I wrote this while watching SPN when there was nothing interesting happening on scene, so please excuse any sentences that seem a little strangely worded. Enjoy and rate and check in tomorrow for the next chapter of SG if you're following it(:_

_..._

I watch him from the shadows every day. He moves with a feline grace that has me captivated by his every gesture, every motion, every blink of his mossy green eyes. His humanity shines like a beacon in the heavy blanket of evil, and things like me are drawn into him like moths to a light. And like those moths, they are foolish and reckless, and the light burns them to death. A trail of blood and path of corpses is left in the human's wake.

I want to touch him. Want to run my fingers through his blood matted hair and scrub away the dirt from his face to reveal the flesh underneath. Would it be tan or pale? Freckled or bare? The only thing I know for certain about him is the color of his eyes- piercingly green in a world that is nothing but smudges of grey and brown with the occasional splatter of red.

But I am resigned to watch him from the cover of darkness, stealing glimpses from between branches and leaves. Dean Winchester is beautiful, oh so beautiful, but ten times as deadly. One look and I would be gone, and then where would I go? Where does a dead vampire go when she is slain?

They say to run the other way, to turn around and never look back, but I can't. He captivates me. I can't leave him.

Dean Winchester is a legend here. He is the nightmare of nightmares, the worst imaginable thing that could happen to something like me. His humanity, they say, is like a magnet. I think it is more like a siren song. Creatures of darkness are fascinated and creep closer than they should, only to be dashed against his rocks.

He travels with one of my kind. I do not know his name. The male vampire is the only one who hasn't been vanquished by the siren song. I envy him.

The human is looking for an angel. I have heard him ask for the angel's location from his victims before his blade slices them to bits. I know he's been to hell- that is where he learned how to cut so they won't die. Is this hell? Watching and wanting, but never being able to have? It _feels_ like hell.

Dean Winchester finds his angel by a river. It doesn't look like an angel; there are no wings and no halo. Just a dirty trench coat, too long hair, and a face that needs shaving. But the human is happy and he laughs and smiles and my heart swells at the sound and sight. I should feel jealous of this angel, but I don't. Dean Winchester is happy to have found his angel and I am happy that he is happy.

I think this is what they call love.

They both have stunning eyes. Green and blue. I am watching Dean Winchester sleep now, his head cradled in the angel's lap. _Cas_, I think he called him. Cas has blue eyes. They remind me of Earth's sky. Here the sky is grey. There is no sun during the day and no stars at night. I wonder if Dean Winchester remembers the stars. I don't. He is my stars now.

Cas knows I am following them. At night, when the vampire and the human sleep in the trees and the angel keeps guard, he watches me. I watch him back. He could kill me with his white light as easily as I could snap a twig, but he doesn't. I don't know why. My mouth is smeared with bloodstains that never come off and my eyes are feral from so many years here. I am a monster.

Maybe he knows what it's like to only be able to look and never have.

When Dean Winchester leaves, the angel stays. He fights the Leviathan off and runs back to the river. He tries to wash the black off in the water, but it sticks to his skin like bad memories. The angel sits on the rock and glares at the stream. He looks unhappy.

Now neither of us can look.

I come out of the bushes and Cas looks up at me, distrust and confusion darkening his blue eyes. Taking a deep breath, I take another step forward and part my lips so he can see where my fangs are still retracted. My voice does not quaver as much as I feared it would when I speak.

"What can you tell me about Dean Winchester?"


End file.
